19. Callum
Callum
The Quietus archives make the library at the Ley Court seem unimpressive. Winding stone staircases surround the room. Vines drape from the ceiling, dotted with pink and orange flowers.
To the eye, the territory is thriving. Greenery is lush and teeming with magic. It’s vibrant. Yet when I stood at the edge of a stone-carved balcony earlier, the wind sent a breath of death to my senses. A whisper of the Well’s slow approach from the west.
It’s yet to reach this shore, but it’s coming.
From Rior’s reports, there’s already a split in Everquell up north.
The vein tore through the center of the territory, rendering it completely uninhabitable.
Creatures spilled from the shadowy maw, forcing Fae to abandon entire villages and seek refuge in Zealeh and Andare.
Both territories are being flooded from the sides with monsters unlike anything we’ve seen.
Rior told me it’s worsened since the failed Rite in Lyrichia. Whatever Malachi did with the orb cracked something otherworldly open. The Well rages with this fresh power to drink, and since the magic of the realms connects Lyrichia and Vaelier, no territory is safe.
In Quietus, creatures have begun surfacing from the depths of the Calliasyne Sea.
Elorie is right that the orb must be dealt with, whether or not we have the resources.
Which is why I spend day and night studying books in the library.
Scouring the scribbles of the oldest archives, trying to understand how the first Arches were put in place.
Looking for a way for us to travel between realms now that there’s a possibility there might be something that can tame the power within Malachi’s orb somewhere outside our current reach.
If Perame can find the void, we’ll need a way to get to it. Either by waking one of the dead Arches or by growing an entirely new one. Opening one at Elorie’s mother’s sword gives me hope it can be done, but without the sword here, I need to find a way to recreate it using something else.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Elorie rests her hip against the table, glancing at the book in my hand.
Daggers hang at her hips. She’s fully adorned in leather, more fit to be training with Greer than wandering the library. Her hair is tied back in a braid at each temple.
“Hiding would imply no one knows where I am.”
She hums, circling the table and taking a seat. “You brought Emual’s journals.”
“They seemed the most useful, and I wasn’t sure we’d be able to go back, so I packed them just in case.”
Elorie’s frown deepens as she flips open one of the covers. “Have you found anything?”
“Nothing beyond what we already read. His later journals are barely legible. The ramblings of a Fae slowly losing his mind to the voices of the island.”
“What voices?” She sits straighter.
Digging through the pile of worn leather-bound books, I pull out one of Emual’s last journals and open it to that entry.
“He swore he heard the island whispering. Corresponding Fae records show he wasn’t the only one.
Some blamed it on travel in and out of the prison—said it was disturbing whatever spirits lingered there.
But they never figured it out. After Emual died, there are no more records of the song they heard. They said it went quiet.”
“The song.” Color drains from her cheeks.
When Elorie was younger, she sometimes mentioned things about the island no human should have known.
Her father worried she was close to discovering her Fae heritage, so he tried to distract her and keep her as far from the prison as possible.
That was why he fought against her helping with the burning.
He knew she heard something and worried what it might mean if the Guard found out.
“You heard it?”
Elorie nods. “I heard the song a few times over the years, but it wasn’t until I was in the prison this last time that I realized where it came from. Or who it came from. It was my mother’s voice. I don’t understand why Emual would have heard her though.”
“Me either. We don’t know much about Idunn, and there’s no mention of her being brought to the prison. I can’t find a record of how old she is.”
It’s unsettling, especially considering she mentioned wielding the orb before Malachi did, and that she’s yet to succumb to the Beating. How much more do we not know about the female who brought Elorie into our realm?
“There isn’t much else in the journals, but I’ll keep looking,” I assure her. “Unfortunately, there’s also little on Arches we don’t already know either.”
All these books. Nearly a mountain filled with them, and they all say the same thing: an Arch requires a seed to root magic and connect two places.
“I know you’ll figure it out,” Elorie says, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Are you training with Greer today?” My gaze moves to her daggers.
“I thought about it.” She flexes her hand in front of her. “My magic feels different here. Stronger, somehow. We were told Vaelier was in worse condition than Lyrichia, but I feel it everywhere. This living, breathing realm.”
“It is different here. Malachi wanted us to think Lyrichia was stronger than it was. Being here proves how deep his lie went. I should have known it was all an illusion.”
“You couldn’t have, Callum. Not with whatever he was wielding. The orb masked the truth.”
“The signs were there. The state of Rohldova. The young Fae struggling to reach their age of immortality… it was clear something wasn’t right. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
Elorie frowns. “We’ll fix it. There has to be a way.”
“To save them both?” I raise a skeptical brow.
“You think I’m overreaching too?”
“I think if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be the girl I know.” I smirk, and it draws out a smile that lights her eyes. “What does Wilder think of that?”
“He understands why I’ve made this decision. He supports me in following this path. His court, on the other hand…”
“It’s understandable why they resist.” I glance at the doorway, where four Vaelier warriors stand in the hallway, laughing.
“Just because Malachi staged events to help incite his battle, it doesn’t erase things our people did to them or the things Wilder’s people did to ours.
There have been many losses on both sides, and not all of that is Malachi. ”
“I know that.” She follows my gaze to the warriors. “But it doesn’t change the fact that there are innocents on both sides. And in Lyrichia’s case, a realm that is uncertain once Malachi is dead. What then, Hazel becomes queen?”
She shivers at that thought.
“Potentially, yes.” I lean back, dragging my hair off my face and considering her point. Dealing with Malachi solves one problem and creates another. “The oldest Lyrichian accords state that the crown is passed through blood or battle.”
“Meaning?”
“Hazel isn’t the only one who can claim the crown in the event Malachi is overthrown. His generals can challenge the blood claim for themselves.”
“Greer was a general.” Elorie’s eyes widen, and I nod.
“Greer, yes. Although she technically gave up her rank when she left with us.”
“Do you think she realized what that meant?”
I drag my fingers through my hair. “You weren’t beside her when she found out what Malachi had done to her parents. She knew what she was giving up, and I doubt she regrets it.”
Color leaves Elorie’s cheeks; her silver eyes drift down as she considers that.
“There are two other generals.” I clear my throat. “General Balk at Ruse Village and General Alasdair Merikh in Rohldova.”
All light leaves Elorie’s eyes at the mention of Alasdair’s name.
While I didn’t know what he had her doing beneath the palace while we were in the Ley Court, when we returned to Alyssium, she admitted that he and Malachi would drag her down there for experiments.
Even now, my fingers grip the pommel of my sword with a strong urge to sink it into Alasdair’s neck for tormenting her.
“I don’t know that they’d challenge Hazel for fear of what she’d do to them if they tried,” I say. “There’s a greater chance she would refuse to take her brother’s seat upon his death and hand it over to them willingly. She’s not one to care for a crown.”
“And if that changed and she wanted to take her brother’s place, what then? With Malachi gone, would we want her to have it?”
I consider that question, my throat tightening. “I don’t know anymore.”
There was a time, centuries ago, when I thought I knew Hazel Adira.
The youngest heir to the Lyrichian crown.
The female cloaked in shadows, who everyone feared.
There was a time I saw through that darkness and believed in a different version of her beneath.
Things changed when I tried to get closer, to see beyond the nightmare the court painted her to be.
She changed.
Her magic changed her.
Shadow magic is the most unpredictable and dangerous.
I know from the scars running parallel to my spine just how deadly the shadows can be.
My father made sure of it. And like my father, Hazel is plagued by her shadows.
But there was a time I wanted to think she could be different.
That her shadow magic wasn’t the curse it’s known to be.
There was a time I thought she was a friend.
Until she wasn’t.
Now, I wonder if Hazel is even there anymore, or if the shadows have claimed her mind completely.
My stomach turns as I shove that down. Hazel is gone. I’ve seen it in her eyes. I looked into them, and only shadows stared back. I felt it beneath my palms. Her magic lashed against mine with no resistance or control. I was barely able to stop her, but I did.
I’ll be the one who has to end her if it comes down to it.
She’s the female I used to follow around the palace because I was desperate to see what existed beyond the sadness in her eyes, and I’ll be her end.
Elorie leans forward, not taking her silver eyes off me, even when I don’t look at her. “I suppose now isn’t the time to think about that. A lot comes before it. The orb, the Well… We’ll worry about the rest when this is done.”
“It’s good you still have hope.”
“Do you?”
Do I? I close my eyes and listen to the wind scraping the top of this mountain. Death whispering on the breeze.
“I have faith in you,” I decide, opening my eyes.
“Wilder is strong, and his court is capable, but you have heart. I’m not here for them.
For Lyrichia or Vaelier. I think there’s a lot we shouldn’t have been able to do, and somehow, we got to where we are now because of the choices you’ve made. If anyone can break fate, it’s you.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” She bites her lower lip. “Idunn said fate has a way of correcting itself.”
“Well then, if this is already written, we have no choice but to ride these threads to the end. Win or lose, I’m here. Greer’s here. We’ll figure it out together.”
She reaches across the table, placing her hand over the back of mine. “Thank you, Callum.”
There was a time when Elorie’s thumb brushing mine would have meant more. When her blood would have heated and her cheeks would have flushed. I wasn’t blind to her interest in me all those years. And I didn’t miss that it snuffed out the moment she walked into the prison and met Wilder.
An equal mix of happiness and disappointment swept through me when Elorie found her mate.
A strange part of me wondered if she was mine and that’s why I couldn’t bear to turn down her father when he asked me to protect her.
I wondered if, at some point, her Fae side would wake, and it would all be clear.
But that’s not the case. Elorie is Wilder’s, and I’m simply a half, waiting to be whole.
Some hope they never find their mate—like Greer. They worry a mate will influence their free will. I’ve stayed awake many nights wishing I felt that way.
I flip my hand over and squeeze Elorie’s, letting that worry go. I offer her my friendship. My loyalty.
I turned my back on my kingdom. On my father. On the guards who fought beside me for centuries. But I didn’t turn my back on my family. Not as Greer walks into the room and Elorie pulls back and smiles at her.
“Am I interrupting you two?” Greer’s eyebrow lifts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re avoiding training because you’re scared I’ll embarrass you by putting you on your backs in front of the esteemed Vaelier warriors.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “If you’re so confident, why not just battle them and put them on their backs?”
“Because they’re flirts.” She crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes.
If I had to guess, Atlas disappeared to find Greer after showing me to the archives earlier. The more she hates him, the more he orbits. It’s a common problem among warriors. They can’t help a challenge.
“I need to get through this stack of books, so training is going to have to wait.” I hold one up as Elorie stands. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“I don’t understand why they call it such when none of them eat.” Elorie frowns. “I doubt they’ll even have food.”
Her eyebrows furrow, then smooth almost instantly as she gazes off. It’s getting easier to tell when Wilder is whispering in her mind because her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink and her freckles brighten.
She blinks the room back into focus as she pulls her attention back to me. “Never mind. I’ve been promised food.”
I can’t help but chuckle because Fae don’t have the same hunger as humans, and Elorie is insatiable.
“I’ve been promised wine,” Greer adds, pulling her sword from her sheath and twisting it so it glints in the light streaming through an open archway. “But first, we’re going to work up an appetite.”
Elorie nudges my shoulder in goodbye as she disappears with Greer, and I stare at the doorway long after they’re gone, not looking away until a howl of wind in the distance has my fists clenching.
A whispered warning.
Death is coming.